


Captain No-Beard

by BerityBaker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kidlock, so fluffy I almost suffocated writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 22:56:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1364830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerityBaker/pseuds/BerityBaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a rough time starting school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain No-Beard

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on [this](http://holdencaulfieldin221b.tumblr.com/post/80394142173/what-if-when-he-was-a-little-kid-sherlock-had-like) post that I made a couple days ago and just couldn't get over. So here's the fic that was destined to happen.

“Sherlock, what on earth are you going on about?”

Sherlock tried to control his heaving sobs enough to answer his brother. “They were—they were—they…” he choked out, before giving up again and crying into his pillow.

“I told you not to take that thing to school,” Mycroft reminded him coolly, which only earned him a tearful glare.

“Roger is not a ‘thing’!” Sherlock wailed. “He’s my best friend!”

Mycroft sighed, knowing that there was no consoling the boy after a blunder like that. “Fine. Yes. He’s your best friend. But I did tell you that the other children would have a problem with your best friend being a stuffed animal, did I not?”

Sherlock shrugged gloomily and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Yes, you did.”

“Exactly. I warned you, but you refused to believe me.”

Sherlock was staring dismally at Roger. The skull stared back, jaw turned upwards in what Mycroft knew was a ludicrous impression of a smile. There was no way a real skull would be able to twist in that manner. If Sherlock had ever seen a real skull, perhaps he wouldn’t be so fixated on the cotton-filled disaster in his lap.

That was when the idea struck Mycroft, and he left the room without another word.

Sherlock stared after him in confusion.

+++

When Mycroft returned hours later, he held something behind his back. Sherlock, his curiosity drawing the better part of his attention away from the skull in his lap, craned his neck to try and see what it was.

Mycroft didn’t say anything. He simply walked over to Sherlock’s desk—the one he’d insisted on for Christmas even though it was much too high for him to actually use—and placed his gift on it before leaving Sherlock alone to admire it.

Sherlock climbed down from his bed and up onto the chair to study his new present, which happened to be a very real-looking, slightly battered skull. He didn’t know what to think. Any ordinary child would have asked where it came from, but Sherlock was no ordinary child. The question on his mind, therefore, was more along the lines of “Why would Mycroft do something so kind?”

He wasn’t going to go searching for that answer, however. Instead he picked up the new skull and introduced it to Roger, who, it turned out, had been looking for a skull friend, Sherlock decided. And this one would do quite nicely.

+++

The next morning, as Sherlock went to put Roger and his new friend in his bag, he found that they would not both fit alongside each other. After a quick discussion between the three of them, it was decided that Roger and his friend—now officially christened ‘Captain No-Beard’—would trade off school duty. Sherlock felt that they had the better end of it anyway; school was, in his opinion, absolute torture (a view brought on no doubt by the ridicule he’d endured the single day he’d attended), and he had to go every day.

Since Roger had attended the day before, it was the Captain’s turn, and the ride to school was spent in peaceful contemplation of what it would mean to have a real skull instead of, as Mycroft had put it the previous morning, a mockery of one.

The difference was clear as soon as No-Beard was removed from his place among Sherlock’s schoolbooks. As he placed the skull on its perch at the corner of his desk, the very same students who had laughed and poked at Roger mercilessly sat silent and shocked, their jaws hung wide and their throats uttering small, involuntary sounds of fear.

Soon he heard the whispers, the breathy murmurs of “Do you see that?” “Is that _real_?” “Where did he get that thing?” Luckily enough, he was oblivious to one child in particular who muttered, “He must be mad. He probably killed someone to get that skull.”

Sherlock glanced around, daring anyone to say something against his new friend. Instead he was met with the same startled looks, which were quickly beginning to seem fearful. He couldn’t help but smile proudly; at least no one was laughing, which was much more than could be said for poor Roger.

+++

It was just before recess that Sherlock began to wonder—if Roger had a new friend, a _skull_ friend, what did it mean for the two of them? Of course, he knew Roger was his best friend. But if Roger and No-Beard were placed on a shelf side-by-side, how would he choose which to play with? He worried that choosing No-Beard would feel like abandoning Roger, but that choosing Roger would force him to admit that he was not as fond of the real skull, which he in fact was. It was a dilemma that left him sitting on the steps outside as the other children ran about on the playground, giving him a wary distance, regarding his skull. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice the boy who sat on the stair beside him.

“Is that _real_?” the boy asked. Sherlock looked up at him finally. He was a year up from Sherlock, with sandy blond hair and dark blue eyes.

“What?”

“Is that a real skull?” the boy asked again, and there wasn’t a hint of fear or even laughter in his tone, just sincere wonder.

He nodded, gripping the skull tighter and never taking his eyes off the older boy, as if this were a ruse to steal his new friend away and smash him on the pavement.

“Really? Where did you get it?”

“My brother gave it to me.”

“That’s brilliant. All my sister ever gives me is her old toys. Does it have a name?”

Cautiously, Sherlock replied, “Captain No-Beard.”

The older boy nodded, a confused frown knitting together his eyebrows. “Why?”

“He’s a pirate,” Sherlock explained.

“And he’s got no beard to be called by!” the boy exclaimed, understanding lighting his features. “That’s clever, that is.”

Sherlock nodded, unsure what to make of this child who was being so civil towards him.

“So you like pirates?” Sherlock nodded again, and the boy went on excitedly, “Do you want to play pirates? That log over there can be the ship.”

Sherlock shrugged.

“Oh, come on. You can be captain.”

Finally, Sherlock said, “Alright then.” Being the younger brother, he’d never been offered the position before, and couldn’t resist being ranked higher than first mate.

As they stood, the boy held out a hand. Sherlock slowly shook it. “Do _you_ have a name?”

“Sherlock Holmes.”

The boy smiled. “I’m John Watson.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Roger's full name is Jolly Roger. Don't make fun, Sherlock came up with it when he was four.


End file.
